


creamer

by hesperia (erythea)



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Explicit Sexual Content, Lactation Kink, Male Lactation, Masturbation, Multi, Nipple Play, When In Doubt Blame Belial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25384360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erythea/pseuds/hesperia
Summary: Sandalphon is convinced Belial drugged his seaside cafe's dairy supply with aphrodisiacs. He knows, because he drank some. Concerned about their friend, Djeeta and Lucio try to help.
Relationships: Lucifer/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy), Lucio/Djeeta/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy)
Kudos: 33





	creamer

This was Belial's doing. Sandalphon was sure of it.

Although he was often quick to dismiss the absurd notion of the fallen angel's sudden return, the archangel believed it wasn't beyond Belial’s character and capabilities to play a prank from beyond the horizon. Sandalphon found it strange that his dairy supplier's contracts had been renewed without his knowledge; he assumed he'd simply forgotten the memory of a chore that had become so routine. Even stranger were the raving reviews his seaside cafe received this morning.

“Oh. My. Bahamut. This triple venti non-fat sugar-free caramel macchiato with caramel drizzle is to _die_ for! I want another.”

“This boba latte is totes gonna make waves, bros!”

“Skies above, today's cappuccino is quite exquisite… Did you change the recipe?”

He didn't.

As much as Sandalphon wanted to take pride in today's creations, he didn't do anything particularly special to improve them. Today was supposed to be business as usual. Why would his customers notice something now? Something was up. Gathering the necessary ingredients, he made himself a latte and, preparing himself for the worst, took a sip.

Sandalphon preferred his coffee black, but on his tongue settled a creamy sweetness that disturbed his sensibilities beyond mere preference. In other words, it wasn't bad at all.

In fact, he wanted more.

Sandalphon fought the urge to make himself another cup. There was work to be done. He wasn't the type to give in to a cheap vice like addiction. But soon, the world began to spin. His hands sought for purchase on the counter, nearly knocking his drink over. Heat began to rush under his skin, across his shoulders and down his loins. Then, the ache began. His chest felt heavy and sore. His nipples rubbed against the fabric of his jacket. Every nerve ending seemed to be reaching its threshold, and he couldn't see the end of it.

He spat the culprit's name through gritted teeth.

“Belial?” Djeeta repeated, tray in hand. “What's wrong, Sandalphon? Did you find any leads?” Her brows creased in concern. “Are you… okay?”

When her tentative hand hovered between them, Sandalphon quickly dismissed her with a wave.

“I'm fine,” he said, choking down a moan. “Djeeta, tell Lyria we can't sell any food or drink that needs milk. Find an alternative if you can — and an antidote.”

“Roger that!” The captain gave him an energetic salute. “Um, wait. That sounds bad. Antidote? Why should we do that?”

“Milk's poisoned.” Sandalphon answered curtly as he hurried out the cafe. “Call Shao. I'm taking a break.”

“Poisoned? Hey, you can’t just say that and leave! _Sandalphon!_ ”

Before Djeeta could demand a proper explanation, the angel had already taken flight.

* * *

Sandalphon's chest grew tighter every second. It begged for touch — release. But not where others could see him. He considered the dressing rooms, but the shoddy narrow stalls were never empty, and he had no patience to wait in line. Instead, the angel flew. He didn't wander very far. He chose to retreat into a sea cave at the edge of the beach, hidden by the rocky formations along Auguste's coast. His landing was not graceful. Chromatic wings cocooned him and broke his fall as he swept into the cave's mouth. At that point, he couldn't tell sea from sky or sky from sand; it was a miracle he didn't dive into the ocean.

 _Though it would have cooled me off,_ he mused as he stared at the sea’s reflection on the ceiling.

But Sandalphon knew a dip in the water he couldn’t lift this — this _curse_ that easily. The angel sat up and leaned back against the cavern walls, taking a moment to regain his bearings. He understood what he came here to do, the shame of it. He was here to take care of himself. To… empty himself. Disgraceful as it was to have his body act this way, he couldn’t possibly let his guard down around anyone else either. Even dressing down was not something he could do so freely. Not when he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His armor was gone but his unzipped jacket served its function, covering what others had no qualms putting on display: flesh, sweat, and the blood rushing under his skin.

Today, however, clothes were an inconvenience.

Sandalphon took a deep breath, cursed the skies above, and pulled his jacket open.

The salty breeze tickled his bare skin. Drops of milk threatened to roll down from his nipples, pink and puffy and aching for attention. The liquid was not only there but smeared all over his flushed chest, giving it a sheen that made it look… delectable. No, _weird_. His chest was heavy. His nipples were wet. They _weren’t_ supposed to lactate, but that’s not what confused him. It was the gasp he made at the sight of his chest. The lick of his lips as his imagination wandered. He didn’t understand it. There was no point to being touched, to wanting a body and feeling it under his bones. Primals weren’t built for reproduction. Belial’s greed was an anomaly — an aberration.

But as Sandalphon felt his body — the body that Lucifer created — flare up with an unfamiliar heat, he only found himself asking even more questions. This flame inside him: was it Belial’s trick, or was he already capable of desire? And if he could feel desire, why would Lucifer allow him to?

No. There was no time to think. If he wanted to return to his cafe and help the others with damage control, he needed to make this quick.

Sandalphon caught a bead of milk with his finger and spread it over the bud of one nipple. At first, he thought of giving himself a short, tentative stroke. He was new to these foreign sensations in foreign places, and as much as he wanted to put on a front for the skies and Lucifer above, he was… nervous. He didn’t know how he was supposed to touch himself, and there was certainly no one for him to ask now. Some things, it seemed, were best learned by experience.

“Mm…”

He didn’t know he could moan like _that_. How could a single touch throw his head back and draw his voice out? It only lasted for a second, but the feeling in his chest was uncomfortably sweet.

That one stroke turned into a circuit. His finger continued to circle the tip, applying more pressure as he explored the ways he could bring shivers down his spine. Did all skydwellers do this? Did all skydwellers _feel_ this? The sensation mesmerized him, his milk only serving to heighten the pleasure as he pressed, pulled, flicked and tweaked the nub of his nipple. More milk gushed out of the tip as he did so, and he cursed under his breath all the while. He was disgusted with himself, but he couldn’t deny that it felt _good_. And that was bad. He couldn’t let this become a habit. He had to hurry.

Sandalphon tried both nipples. The same pressure, the same circles, and _oh_ , the same feeling twofold. His voice echoed deep into the cavern and he silently prayed the sound of crashing waves drowned it out, because he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was alone. Not when he knew he’d never have the chance to do this again. The circles he drew grew tighter, faster. His body felt as if it was winding up too, writhing against the rock as his heels dug desperate lines into the sand. Saliva began to trickle from the corner of his open mouth. He’d already forgotten his surroundings, and as he touched himself, he didn’t care to remember.

But he was aware of this madness and the ways it could destroy him. An archangel without discipline was no leader. One could even call him pitiful. Pathetic. He needed to be in control. None of this aimless pleasure-seeking or boorish howling. As he grit his teeth and twisted in place, the pleasure he gave himself soon drew out a name:

“Lucifer.”

It made perfect sense. The greatest of pleasures could not be equated with any other name. _Lucifer._ As Sandalphon touched his chest, he began to say the name like a prayer. _Lucifer, Lucifer._ Sandalphon swiped his tongue over his thumb, savored its sweetness, and rubbed himself with more purpose. If Lucifer were here, surely he would help him with this trial. Lucifer would hold Sandalphon in his arms and whisper gentle words of encouragement. Lucifer would shower Sandalphon with praise as he made himself a wet, hot mess, nuzzling his cheek as he calmed him down. Lucifer would trace lines down Sandalphon’s bare chest and take nipples between his fingers, tweaking and squeezing him dry—

“Forgive me, Luci…fer…”

Sandalphon bucked his hips at the very thought, his cock now straining against his shorts, and he bit his lip before another moan could escape him. Whatever Belial put in the milk was worse than he imagined. Sandalphon certainly held deep affection for Lucifer, but Lucifer didn’t deserve to be a mere object of his baser desires. Before he could tarnish the former primarch’s name any further, Sandalphon decided to finish the job. He’d almost forgotten his purpose, and it wasn’t like him, of all angels, to forget.

So he pulled on his nipples. Pinched them until milk sprayed out of his tender peaks. Soiled his clothes and skin. He groaned in pleasure and pain as he desperately squeezed his breasts, hoping he’d soon milk himself dry. But milk only continued to dribble from his nipples, now red, drenched and sore from his teasing.

“Lucifer, hah…”

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have used Lucifer’s name in vain.

Because that was how they found him.

“I believe he is over here, Djeeta.”

“Let’s hope you’re right! I’m so worried…”

Sandalphon recognized the voices: a girl and a young man. They seem to have arrived at the cave in the same manner he did, and as luck would have it, he was too spent to run or hide. To make matters worse, the man found him first.

With a face Sandalphon was all too familiar with, the flaxen-haired man gave him a radiant smile.

“Hehe… I found you, Sandy.”

He’d never wanted to punch those teeth in so badly before.

**Author's Note:**

> ... Come to think of it, doesn't Sandalphon insist on making his coffee black only? The entire premise falls apart if I roll with that, though. Also I wanted to make a stupid Starbucks joke. Oh well! This fic isn't over!


End file.
